Fish by Amy LeBlanc

Poem name: Fish Poet name: Amy LeBlanc Poem: Lavinia Fisher slept in a potter’s field near the jail, where she poured cups of tea over poisoned sugar cubes hung her wedding dress over the back of an oak door. She told me to call her Fish. There was no room in the house, but Fish invited me in for tea—said the suit on my body looked like I’d drowned but she would revive me. Fish breathed in pearls and spat out buttons, draped iridescent oyster broth across her chest, lined gills with baubles. She bathed me in bourbon. It is possible that I assemble her body with wire hangers or wallpaper paste or pulp or spiced salmon guts. When Fish looks at me, I forget the missing men six miles out or six feet down where no one will hear a bubble burst. I see a wedding dress hanging and waltzing in a gulp of her breath. End of poem. Credits: Copyright © Amy LeBlanc Amy LeBlanc is an MA student in English Literature and creative writing at the University of Calgary and Managing Editor at filling Station magazine. Amy’s debut poetry collection, I know something you don’t know, was published with Gordon Hill Press in March 2020. Her novella Unlocking will be published by the UCalgary Press in their Brave and Brilliant Series in June 2021. Her next chapbook Undead Juliet at the Museum is forthcoming with ZED Press in spring 2021. Her work has appeared in Room, PRISM International, and the Literary Review of Canada among others. She is a recipient of the 2020 Lieutenant Governor of Alberta Emerging Artist Award.